The last thing I saw was a white winged bird.
She flew so good in the breeze and with no regret
I watched her die on a rock by the waving sea.
Her soul reached out but hovered still in the air by
which she'd flown and I smiled inside as I realized
I wouldn't be alone.
For death is sweet when it is shared and you know
I dared to please that bird who died that way
this day was the one who died with me.